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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23362993">Small Comforts in Scary Times</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evedawalrus/pseuds/Evedawalrus'>Evedawalrus</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Cyberverse</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(don't worry this isn't romantic), Friendship, Gen, Hot Rod Needs a Hug, Hot Rod and Clobber are mlm/wlw solidarity, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, It's just mentioned but pls be warned, Past Character Death, Perceptor is here and I love him</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 11:21:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,688</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23362993</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evedawalrus/pseuds/Evedawalrus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>On a Quintesson-controlled Cybertron, things seem bleak for the few survivors. Hot Rod feels the pressure pushing down on him, but Clobber is there for her friend.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hot Rod &amp; Clobber</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>64</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Small Comforts in Scary Times</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I wrote this for Mae Catt's birthday yesterday – thanks to her for being a great writer and an all-around cool cat! Sorry if it's a bit sad; I originally intended this to be goofy but as you can see, it... didn't turn out that way. Still, hope you like it!</p><p> <br/> </p><p>...Heh. "Cool Catt."</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Augh- no!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clobber jolted as the headset hit the ground with a crash. Taking a step back from Hot Rod, her optic flickered from the steam rising off her friend’s spoiler to the dented headset. “Whoa! What happened in there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hot Rod didn’t look at her. Glaring at the cortical psychic patch by his feet, he seemed to be just holding back the urge to kick it. “The same fragging thing that happens </span>
  <em>
    <span>every</span>
  </em>
  <span> time!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gripped his head with one hand and scowled, turning on his heel and violently gesturing at the tangle of wires he had been connected to a moment ago. “I go in, I try to find Bumblebee or Arcee or Ratchet or- whoever, I do everything short of manually triggering their transformation cog for them, and they still don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>listen!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clobber tentatively reached out to place a claw on Hot Rod’s shoulder, but quickly withdrew when a wave of heat burst off of his frame. Shoulders drawing up, Hot Rod suddenly swiveled around to punch the side of the Quintesson structure. “And it happens again, and again and again and </span>
  <em>
    <span>again</span>
  </em>
  <span>-” he punctuated each word with a hit to the black metal, each </span>
  <em>
    <span>CLANG</span>
  </em>
  <span> echoing louder than the last. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clobber flinched at the volume, glancing up at the gloomy skies to check for flashes of movement or shining red eyes. “Hey, uh- maybe you should- the, that noise might attract those tentacle guys-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clobber’s voice died in her throat as Hot Rod whipped around and yelled, “I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>CARE!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The Autobot was almost glowing, a reddish haze drifting off of his black paint as he snarled at Clobber, his normally lively optics almost white with exertion and rage. “I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>care</span>
  </em>
  <span> if any of those slimy aliens find us, because you know what? We’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> going to get anyone else out of there. They’re all gonna keep cheering for their </span>
  <em>
    <span>stupid</span>
  </em>
  <span> parade until their sparks explode and their frames rot! Primus, we should- the only way they’re waking up is if we knock those headsets off of them ourselves!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“B-but Hot Rod, that’ll just-” Clobber meekly said, shrinking away from the smaller bot.</span>
</p><p><span>“</span><em><span>Kill them?</span></em><span> Yeah, I know! You think I- I just forgot about Hound?” He was growing so hot the tears gathering at the sides of his optics hissed into steam before they could even escape down his cheeks. His hands trembled as he squeezed them into tight fists, mirroring the way his voice shook even as it grew to a fever pitch. “That I forgot how we- how we just put him in a </span><em><span>box</span></em><span> in a </span><em><span>storage</span></em> <em><span>room</span></em><span> because there was nowhere we could bury him? That I forgot that there’s no way I’m ever gonna see any of my friends ever again because I have the worst luck in the universe and the only one I could ever get out of there was </span><em><span>you!”</span></em></p><p>
  <span>Clobber froze. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took Hot Rod a moment to catch up with himself – and when he did, his frame went cold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally unhindered, his tears made a soft </span>
  <em>
    <span>plip</span>
  </em>
  <span> as they dripped off his chin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A minute passed in stark, raw silence. Somewhere far off, three-eyed creatures roved through the city like living spotlights. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clobber swallowed. “I-. Uh. I know you… probably didn’t mean th-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before she could even finish, Hot Rod had turned into a whirl of transforming parts and a screech of tires, and in a moment all that was left of him was a forgotten headset and a badly dented wall. Clobber looked to the skid marks leading away, then to the quickly approaching spotlights.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh man…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scooping up the cortical psychic patch, Clobber transformed and headed back towards their makeshift base. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>When she finally reached the base – luckily unspotted by the tentacle-thingies – Perceptor was, as always, still working. He didn’t even look up to acknowledge Clobber when she entered, his scope remaining focused on his current project as he greeted her with, “I take it the mission was unsuccessful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clobber blinked at him. “Wait... but I haven’t said anything yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Neither did Hot Rod, but judging by his sudden arrival and immediate retreat into one of the storerooms, his ignoring of me as he did so, and the exacerbated rate at which his vents were working, I was able to conclude that you were not able to free anyone else from the Loop.” Perceptor’s scope turned to the cortical psychic patch Clobber still held. “Also, the headset is damaged.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Uh, yeah.” She handed it to him. “Sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perceptor looked over the device and sighed. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be able to fix it relatively quickly.” He set it down, and finally turned to look at the nervous Decepticon. “Clobber. I do not know precisely what happened, but I can understand that Hot Rod is considerably upset. I would go to offer assistance or comfort, but…” He frowned. “...I do not think I am the right bot for the job.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wh- huh?” Clobber sputtered. “But I thought- but you’re both Autobots!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perceptor sighed.  “Perhaps I am an Autobot,” he stood up to place a hand on Clobber’s arm, “but you are his friend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clobber felt something in her chest start aching – a weird ache that was not quite painful but not quite happy, either. She subconsciously drew a claw over her spark. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go on,” Perceptor said as he gently pushed her forward, “he’s in the second room to the right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Clobber knocked on the storeroom door, it was so quiet that at first she thought she had miscounted and gotten the wrong one. She was pretty sure she could count to two, but… She looked back down the hallway and counted again. ...No, this was the second door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, Hot Rod? It’s me, Clobber.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No response. </span>
  <span></span><br/>
<span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“...Are you in there? Or is this like one of those puzzles where the second door’s actually the third one, and if I get the wrong door I get zapped, but if I get the right door I get a ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>brand new car</span>
  </em>
  <span>’?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Through the door, she heard a faint, weak chuckle. Her optic brightening, she said, “Okay, um, I’m coming in if that’s okay,” and pushed the door open. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The storeroom was dark, only lit by the dim glow of some energon cubes stacked in the corner. Across from them, Hot Rod’s blue optics shone wetly, the rest of him blending into the shadows. His gaze flickered up at Clobber, then turned away as he pulled his knees to his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door clicked shut behind Clobber. She stood there for a moment, awkwardly existing, and then cleared her throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hot Rod cut her off before she had even thought of something good to say. “You don’t have to be here,” he said in a thick voice. He sounded…. Small. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clobber, who was used to a Hot Rod who was lively and daring even when everything around him was bleak and uncompromising, found it intensely wrong. She took a step closer. “Why don’t I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Clobber-... I’m sorry. For what I said back there. But you don’t-” he closed his optics, making the light of the room turn from purple to red, “-you don’t have to forgive me. I don’t deserve that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clobber felt the ache in her chest double, and she glanced about the room anxiously. Perhaps she wasn’t the best at talking about feelings – or most things, really – but... she did know how to do one thing really well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hot Rod yelped when Clobber scooped him into a hug – his weapons systems almost onlined before he realized that the Decepticon wasn’t trying to squeeze him to death. “Clobber- erk- what are you doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hugging you!” she said, and then loosened her hold just a bit. “I know I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> to forgive you. But, well... I want to. What you said back there – yeah, it kinda hurt – but I know you didn’t really mean it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She paused for a moment, but Hot Rod was silent in her arms. “...And also, it’s really scary out there! It’s- it’s really scary, knowing those squid thingies are constantly trying to hunt you down, and seeing your friends trapped like that, and- and that if you don’t free them they’re gonna-” Clobber stopped abruptly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After taking a deep breath, she continued. “-Anyways, I don’t blame you for getting so mad. This whole time, I’ve just been- I just try not to think about stuff too hard. Cause, like, if I do, I think I might just… stop. Doing anything, I mean. I dunno.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clobber fell quiet and noticed that Hot Rod’s feet were knocking against her shins as they dangled in midair, so she sat down against the wall, still holding him in her lap. “Uh, so, yeah. It’s okay. ...And even if I’m not your friend-” she gave him a gentle squeeze. “-You’re mine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The storeroom was still for a long while. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clobber’s optic had begun to dim when she heard a muffled sob. Slowly, Hot Rod started to tremble in her arms, his hiccupping breaths growing louder in the small room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aw, hey, hey,” Clobber said to him in a hushed voice. Hot Rod sniffled, hiding his face in the crook of Clobber’s neck as tears rolled down his face, the blue light of his optics reflecting so his cheeks gleamed in the dark. When she hugged him closer, he wrapped his arms around her so tightly one would have thought he was holding on for dear life. “It’s okay, Roddy.” Clobber murmured in a tone gentler than one would think she was capable of. “It’s okay. I’m here. You’re my friend, remember? That means I’m not gonna leave. I’m here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Perhaps Cybertron was still dark and horrid, outside of that storeroom in their little base. Perhaps their friends were trapped in an endless mind-numbing loop, and flying monsters with unblinking eyes stalked the streets, and their chances seemed completely hopeless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But in that room, in the arms of his friend, even as he cried for the first time in a long time – Rodimus felt like he was going to be okay.</span>
</p>
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